


Warm Drinks and Snow

by angelsfalling16



Series: Winter Prompts [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Night Stands, SnowBaz, Snowed In, Tumblr Prompt, but it's mostly vague, there's a little bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-23 04:21:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsfalling16/pseuds/angelsfalling16
Summary: What starts out as a one-night stand becomes an awkward weekend snowed in together as Simon and Baz reflect on the events that led up to their night together.Based on the prompt: we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Winter Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1710103
Comments: 21
Kudos: 203





	Warm Drinks and Snow

**Simon**

I take a minute to catch my breath before I stand up and start searching for my clothes. In our frenzy earlier in the night, clothes ended up scattered all over the room, and it takes me a minute to locate my shirt where it landed half under his dresser.

As I hurriedly pull on my clothes, I try not to look at Baz, who is still stretched languidly across his bed, the thin sheet doing very little to cover his lithe body.

Baz was very clear that this was nothing more than sex, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.

Besides, I prefer to sleep in my own bed, where there is no chance of waking with your limbs tangled with those of someone who doesn’t want you around.

I pull my shoes on and head for the door. I turn and give Baz an awkward wave as I turn the doorknob, and he give me a curt nod before allowing his eyes to fall shut, putting a definite end to this whole night.

I try to ignore the way that my chest aches, wishing that there was a chance that this could be something more.

I grab my coat from where it hangs beside the door, buttoning it up and pulling the hood up over my head before pulling open the door. I’m instantly hit with a wave of cold air, and I freeze when I get a look at everything outside.

The world is covered in snow.

There was an inch or two of snow when I got to his apartment last night, and the snowfall had seemed like it was starting to slow. Apparently, while we were wrapped in each other’s arms, it picked up because there is at least half a foot of snow out there now, and I have no way of scraping it off my car and no hope of driving in this.

Reluctantly, I close the door and head back to where I just left Baz.

I imagine him welcoming me back into his bed and asking me to stay the night, wrapped in his arms, then I silently berate myself for hoping for something that is so completely out of reach.

Thankfully, when I get back to his room, he has at least pulled on some pants. Though, the sight of his bare back has me filling with the need to touch him once more.

He’s pulling the covers from his bed, obviously eager to get rid of any and all trace of me as quickly as possible.

I shake my head at myself before clearing my throat to get his attention. He spins around quickly, surprise quickly turning into confusion then anger when he sees me.

“What are you still doing here?” I try not to take his tone personally, but it’s obviously deeply personal.

He’s done with me now, and he can’t wait to get me out of his apartment.

“It’s snowing,” I say simply.

“It was snowing when you drove here.”

“No, I mean, it’s snowing a lot. My car is buried under a foot of snow.”

“No,” he breathes. Then, he’s pushing past me before I even realize what’s happening.

Slowly, I follow him back to the front door, where he’s staring out at the snowfall, the cold wind blowing in around him.

I bet he wishes he’d put on a shirt now. That cannot be a pleasant feeling. It was cold enough when I opened the door, and I’m bundled in a coat.

I take a few more steps so that I’m standing beside him, and he turns to glare at me.

His arms are crossed, probably as an attempt to keep warm, and it’s a struggle not to stare down at his attentive nipples that not too long ago, I had between my teeth, drawing a low, guttural sound from him.

He curses under his breath. “I need you to leave,” he murmurs.

“How? Do you want me to grab a shovel and start digging my way home?”

“Could you?” He actually sounds hopeful.

Growling low in my throat I turn away from the door. “It looks like I’m stuck here for the night.”

I hear the door slam behind me before he says, “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Seriously?” I exclaim, turning on him.

We just spent an hour and a half exploring each other’s bodies inside and out, tasting each other, and drawing bursts of pleasure from each other multiple times. How can it be that he is so repulsed by the idea of sharing a bed with me?

“I don’t usually let one-night stands stay the night,” he explains. “Since it doesn’t seem like I have a choice, though, you can sleep on the couch.”

“Fine.”

He finds a spare pillow and a couple of blankets and helps me make out a bed on the couch before giving me some of his clothes to change into. Then, without so much as a good night, he disappears back into his room.

He’s an arsehole, and I can’t believe that I have feelings for him. Or that I just slept with him.

Tonight was a mistake.

**Baz**

I can’t sleep knowing that Simon is just in the other room. I spent years sharing a room with him, and now, I can’t even handle one night in the same flat.

That probably has something to do with the fact that when I close my eyes, I can still imagine the way that he looked spread out on my bed, can still feel his hands carefully exploring my body, brushing featherlight touches across my chest, back, and thighs.

I thought that taking a shower would help wash away the memory of his touch, but when I looked in the mirror, the evidence of everything that we just did was all over my body.

There was a dark purple mark on the place where he spent a long time biting and sucking my neck and smaller marks dotting my chest, creating a trail down over my hip, leading to my inner thighs, where he was gentler as he grazed his teeth over the sensitive skin there.

I’m sure there are similar marks on my back and shoulders, but I didn’t check.

I took a long, hot shower, but no matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t forget the way that his breath felt against my ear, the way his tongue felt in my mouth, the way his moans sent shivers down my spine.

I am so screwed.

I don’t look at myself in the mirror again when I exit the shower, opting for towel drying my hair in my room while I find sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt to change into.

It’s freezing in my flat, so after bumping up the heat, I head into the kitchen to make some tea to hopefully warm me up.

It’s not likely that I’ll be getting any sleep tonight, so I might as well have something warm to drink.

While I wait for the water to come to a boil, I start measuring out tea. I don’t expect anyone to sneak up behind me, so when Simon speaks, I startle, spilling tea across the counter.

“What’re you doing?” Simon voice is sleepy, and I flash back to the way it sounded when he was deep inside me, and I was begging him for more.

“Fuck,” I hiss, attempting to clean up the tea and remove all vestiges of what we just did from my mind. “What does it look like I’m doing? Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. It’s freezing in your living room, and I don’t usually get cold, so it’s hard to get comfortable.

“There are more blankets in the closet.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t leave, though, and I can feel his close proximity behind me as I finish making my cup of tea, pouring cream into it and adding too much sugar before I finally turn to face him.

He’s even closer than I thought, and I take a step back, bumping into the counter before I realize that I have nowhere to go.

Simon is just standing there watching me, but he’s blocking my exit. He is looking at me strangely, his expression unreadable, and I have no idea what he is thinking right now.

“You’re shaking,” he says finally.

“I’m fine,” I say, even though he’s right. My hair is still wet and it’s taking forever for my apartment to warm up.

“You’re freezing. The heat must not be working.”

“It’s fine,” I snap. “It is just taking it a while to heat up. That’s what happens when there is a fucking blizzard raging outside.”

“It’s not a blizzard. It’s just snowing.”

“I hate snow.”

A new expression crosses his face before he manages to school his expression.

“So you’ve said. Repeatedly, for years.” He sounds hurt, and it takes me a minute to figure out where his line of thought took him.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“No, I get it.” He’s shaking his head and taking a step back. “Nothing has changed. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“Snow--.”

“I’m going back to bed.”

I watch him walk away, and I’m confused about why he is so upset. He has been acting like this was nothing more than a one-night stand just as much as I have. In fact, he’s the one who suggested it first last night.

He had barely made it through the door and taken off his coat before I made a move, determined not to let any awkwardness seep in and make me doubt this.

I pushed him up against the wall and kissed him soundly, making my intent very clear. He responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around my waist and opening his mouth easily when I tentatively ran my tongue along the seam of his mouth.

But he was suddenly pushing me away a moment later, telling me to stop.

“Wait, wait.” He gently pushed me back a little more so that he could see my face.

“What? Do you not want this?” I ask, wondering if I had somehow been mistaken about why he agreed to come here.

“No. I mean, yes. I do, but I need to know something.”

“What?” I asked, a little impatiently.

“Is this just sex or something more?”

“What do you want it to be?” I asked, letting my thumb rub slowly over his hip, eager to get back to kissing him.

I knew what I wanted it to be, but I was afraid to tell him that in case it’s not what he wanted.

“I—. I’m not sure.”

He was obviously nervous, so to sooth his worries, I said, “It doesn’t have to be anything more than sex. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

“Oh, o-okay.”

I didn’t have time to read his tone because he was pulling me back to him and kissing me, apparently content with it just being sex.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. I’m never going to be able to forget last night. I don’t really want to, but it hurts to think about it and know that it didn’t mean anything to Simon.

My tea is beginning to cool, so I shake myself out of my head and make my way towards my room.

I pause just outside the living room to look in on Simon, wondering if I should try to talk to him, try to explain that I didn’t mean to hurt him. He has his back turned to me, but after spending years watching him sleep, I can tell just from the rise and fall of body that he isn’t asleep.

I want to call out to him, but he I don’t want to disturb him, so I decide to keep walking.

**Simon**

I shouldn’t be this upset. Baz was clear from the beginning that this didn’t mean anything, but I thought that we were beginning to become friends at least, so his cold shoulder in the kitchen sends a deep ache through me.

I was stupid to think that it was possible for him to have feelings for me. Baz Pitch has hated me since we were eleven, and nothing is ever going to change that.

Last night was fluke. I was just another name on a long list of guys he’s brought back to his place for an hour of fun before he kicked them to the curb.

It is my own misfortune that led to me getting stuck here, long past my welcome.

I don’t know why I agreed to come over. Did I really believe he asked me over because he liked me? Did I honestly believe that he had somehow changed?

The pain in my chest says I did. I let my own feelings cloud my judgement. I let myself hope for a moment, and it led me down a disastrous place.

I can’t wait to get out of here and go back to just being the guy who makes Baz’s coffee.

As I toss and turn, I can’t help but remember why it was that I agreed to come here.

Baz was no longer acting like the arsehole he was when we were in school.

We’re in college now, and it’s been a long time since we shared a room. I suppose I was hoping that this was a chance for the two of us to start over. It sure did feel like it.

Baz began coming into the coffee shop where I work a couple of times a week, and he would surprise me by striking up a pleasant conversation. I even started to look forward to his visits, hoping that every time the little bell above the door rang, it would be him who walked through the door.

I began to fall hard for him. I fell for the smiles he tried to fight and the quiet timbre of his laugh as I told him how I tripped in front of a lecture hall full of 300 students.

My heart began to do little flips when he walked in and again when he leaned on the countertop, his hair threatening to fall into his eyes. And on the days when we were busy, he would find a table and wait until I was less busy before coming back up to chat with me, like he didn’t mind waiting to talk to me.

He made me feel special, like I was someone he cared about and wanted to spend time with, but it must have all been an act, a ploy to get me in his bed, completely at his mercy.

I was a fool to fall for it, and as soon as I am able, I am getting out of here and never looking back. Even if I have to walk through two feet of snow, I am leaving this place first thing tomorrow morning.

**Baz**

“Don’t be stupid,” I say while Simon pulls on his shoes.

I came out of my room this morning to find him dressed in yesterday’s clothes, the blankets I lent him folded clumsily on the couch. He was apparently planning on leaving without even saying a word.

“You can’t go out there in this,” I continue when he ignores me. “Your car is buried in snow, and I don’t have a shovel for you to borrow.”

“I have to work this afternoon, and I need to get home and shower.”

“It doesn’t seem likely that the coffee shop is going to be open today, and you don’t even work on Saturdays.”

He looks at me sharply. “How do you know that?”

Crap. I didn’t want him to think that I’m so obsessed with him that I know he never works on Saturday.

I mean, I am obsessed, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I just, I’ve never seen you there on a Saturday, so I assumed.”

“Whatever. I still need to get home.”

“Why the sudden rush? You didn’t seem to care about being stuck here last night.”

“That was before I realized that I wasn’t welcome here.”

I want to protest, but he’s right in thinking that. I did everything I could to make him feel unwelcome here once I realized we were snowed in, short of kicking him out.

He has no reason to want to stay.

“Come on,” I say. “At least stay a couple of hours to see if the snow melts easier.”

His jaw clenches before he grits out, “fine.”

I can see the tension in his body as he fights hard not to look at me. It hurts to see how much he wants to get away from me, but a part of me knows that I deserve it.

I could have treated him nicer. I shouldn’t have shut down last night, but I was trying to protect myself. I didn’t want him to see how I really feel about him or the way that I’ve begun to care so deeply about him since seeing him again.

I didn’t want him to know how much last night meant to me.

I ran into him at a coffee shop last night as I was headed home after my evening class.

Well, I didn’t run into him so much as I visited the coffee shop all the way across campus rather than the one closest to the English building in the hope that he would be working again last night.

I have become a frequent customer at that particular coffee shop ever since I stopped by one afternoon with Dev and realized that I recognized the barista behind the counter. I hadn’t seen Simon in two years, but that old animosity was quickly brought to the surface as he took our order without even looking up at us, too distracted by something going on behind him.

The look on his face when he finally looked up to hand us our drinks was priceless. The recognition was immediate, and if Dev hadn’t reached out to grab his coffee, I am sure that Simon would have dropped it.

For weeks since that day, I have returned to that coffee shop, sometimes with Dev but mostly without him, to see Simon. Slowly, along with that animosity, other old feelings were dredged up.

I began to fall for him all over again, and this time, it was even more hopeless before because I began to imagine that he was starting to return those feelings.

When I went to the coffee shop last night, I had been having a terrible day, and I just wanted to have some friendly banter with him to lift my mood before the weekend began.

I was bundled tightly in several layers, my scarf wrapped tightly around my neck and hat pulled down low over my ears, as the snow had just begun to fall.

The coffee shop was almost empty when I arrived, so I didn’t have to wait in line, and I was more than happy to see that it was Simon standing behind the counter, a textbook open in front of him.

“Hey,” he said, smiling at me when he looked up. “The usual?”

“Yes, please,” I replied, fishing around in my pocket for my money.

“You warm enough?” He asked, an amused glint in his eye as he looked me over.

“It’s snowing out there.”

“I know. No one ever comes in here when it’s snowing. They’re all too much in a rush to get home.”

He turned away from me to begin making my drink, and I watched him quietly, admiring the way uniform fit him. When he turned back around with my drink, I made sure I was looking at his face as I held out the money, but he waved my hand away.

“It’s on me tonight.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

We were both quiet for a moment, and that should have been my cue to leave, but I found that I didn’t want to go yet. And not just because I was dreading venturing back out in the snow and having to walk all the way to my car.

“Did you just get out of class?” Simon asked after a moment.

“Yep. Young adult lit might be more interesting if it wasn’t so late in the day.”

“That class is three hours long, isn’t it? That’s even worse.”

“Yeah, how did you know?” I asked, looking at him curiously. I didn’t think I had talked to him about this class yet.

He shrugged. “My friend took it last semester. She would stop by here after class sometimes, too.”

“Oh.”

We lapsed into silence again, and I froze as he moved his hand to brush gently along my arm in what was probably meant to be a friendly gesture before he turned away from me again.

I didn’t want our conversation to end yet, though, so I blurted out, “When do you get off work?”

“We close in about an hour, but it takes me a bit to close up. Why?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place for a bit.”

“What for?”

“Think about it for a moment. Why would I want you to come over?” We’d never hung out outside of this coffee shop since we bumped into each other, but there I was, suggesting something much more than that.

“To study? But we don’t have any classes together.

“You’re an idiot,” I told him but in a fond way, rather than as an insult. “What other reason would I want you to come over. At night,” I added quieter.

I could see him thinking it over, his eyebrows pulling together low over his eyes and the corners of his mouth turning down. I sipped on my coffee while I watched him, and I saw the moment that he got it because his expression changed. His eyes went wide, and his face flushed a deep shade of red.

“ _Oh_.” It took him a moment to look up at me, then his eyes darted off to the side, and he began fidgeting with the pages of his textbook. “You mean…?”

I didn’t respond, just lifted my eyebrows at him and sipped my coffee again.

“Okay,” he said.

I did not expect that, and it took me a second to realize what he was saying.

“Okay,” I repeated slowly. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you my address. You can come over after you close.”

“Here.” He took my cup from my hand, his fingers sliding over mine as he did, and he scribbled his number on the side. “I’ll see you later,” he said, giving me his most charming smile that had me floating all the way to my car.

It’s hard to believe that things turned so sour.

***

It’s lunchtime, and Simon is once again determined to leave, despite the fact that it’s snowing pretty hard outside, which leads to us fighting in a way that is reminiscent of our school days.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” I ask him. “You won’t be able to see two feet in front of you, and the roads are slick, so you’ll probably end up in a ditch before you even make it down the road.”

“I don’t care. I want to get out of here.”

“Why are you so eager to leave here?”

“Because all of this was a mistake.”

His words are like a knife to the heart, and I can feel myself breaking, even as I try to hold myself together.

I take a deep breath to steady myself before saying, in the coldest tone that I can manage, “If it was such a mistake, then why did you come?”

“I thought things would be different. I-I wanted things to be different.”

“It was just sex. What did you want to happen?”

“I didn’t want it to be just sex!” He shouts, and I’m stunned.

“You’re the one who asked if it was,” I say. “It was like you were worried that I might ask more of you.”

“I only asked you that because I was trying to figure out what this was for you. I wasn’t sure if you asked me over for sex or something else.”

“I didn’t think you wanted anything more, so I decided to try to go for casual,” I admit.

“When has anything ever been casual between us?” He’s not yelling anymore, but we’re both still worked up.

“I don’t know, but I didn’t want to ruin whatever it was that we had going between us by asking you to go steady with me.”

“‘Go steady’?” Simon repeats, looking far too amused, most of the anger suddenly gone.

“You know what I mean.”

“Is that what you want?” He asks, his expression softening into something that makes my heart ache.

There’s no point in lying at this point, even though every one of my instincts is screaming at me to back off and protect myself before I get hurt.

I can’t keep hiding, though, not when there’s a chance to be with Simon.

“Yes,” I tell him. “I’ve wanted that for a long time now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“We can go steady.”

I shove him, but he laughs and wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight against his body.

I melt against him, and when he turns his face up to me, I capture his lips in mine. It’s soft, softer than any of the kisses we shared last night.

Last night, everything was rushed and frantic. Now, we have the time to slow down and take our time.

The clothes come off slower today, and we really take the time to enjoy each other’s touch, slowly sliding against each other and listening to the sounds that the other makes. (Simon makes a particularly gorgeous one when I take him down all at once.)

We let it drag on, neither of us in a rush to finish and get out of here. And this time, when we fall beside each other on my bed, I don’t have to worry about Simon trying to leave.

Tonight, when night hits, I get to fall sleep listening to his breathing, wrapped comfortably in his arms, and I sleep soundly, all my worries from the night before completely gone.

I’m not usually one for one-night stands, despite what I said to Simon this morning, but I’m glad for this one. Because this one brought me Simon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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